


The Elf King

by havisham



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Changelings, M/M, is victor's dad jareth i'll never tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Victor isn't human, but he doesn't know.





	The Elf King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesleepingsatellite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/gifts).



Victor remembered being very young and coming to live with Yakov and Lilia. His parents had not had the resources to nurture his talent, Yakov said, but Victor thought it might be more that they were all dead -- or maybe they simply didn’t care for him at all.

After all, even when he became famous, no one ever stepped forward to claim him, to say, “That’s Victor Nikiforov, that’s my son.” Or brother, or cousin, once-removed. 

It was like Victor had come from nothing and from nowhere. There had been a program, about five years ago, in the midst of his incredible winning streak, which had tried to dig into Victor’s origins. Naturally, neither Yakov nor Victor himself cooperated with the investigation -- done by a joint Russian and British tabloid effort -- but when the thing aired, Victor wrapped himself and Makkachin in a big, fluffy blanket and watched, vaguely interested in what they would find. 

The facts were as bare as he had thought they were. It really did seem like Victor had barely existed until he came into Yakov’s care. But there _was_ something -- an old uncorroborated report about a baby who had almost died while in hospital, the parents bizarrely claiming that the baby they had come home with was not their child. 

A tragic case, but nothing to do with him. It could have been any other Victor Nikiforov, born in the late eighties in Saint Petersburg, Russia. 

Victor closed the television and thought no more about it. 

*

It wasn’t until later -- when those he had competed with in his juniors days started to disappear, one by one, while Victor kept skating, kept getting better, that he thought about that strange story. He’d read a little about elves and fairies for one year’s programs, and learned about changelings. Perhaps that was what he was -- not a real changeling, of course, but something like it? A cuckoo in the nest, pushing out the real hatchlings? 

He wondered vaguely about Yakov and Lilia, his parents if he ever had any. He’d never inquired if they would have had children if not for him. It never mattered, because their devotion to him was total. But was that right? Was that the reason they’d fallen apart in the end? 

Yakov would snort and accuse Victor of being self-obsessed if he said anything about it. Maybe that was right. Victor knew a talent like his came about only once in a generation. If such a talent had its own gravitational pull, then so what? It wasn’t his fault.

*

It took Yuuri to show him how truly empty his life had been before. Victor loved him, desperately, for it. Being with Yuuri meant that Victor could have both life and love, and he wouldn’t let that go once he had it. 

He saw the love and family that Yuuri was surrounded with, the safety net that Yuuri himself barely seemed to notice. Even when Victor managed to whisk him away to Saint Petersburg, Yuuri still drew people towards him. Victor had never had Yuri in his apartment before, and now it seemed like the brat almost lived there. 

“But Yuuri, you love me the _best_ , don’t you?” Victor said, kissing Yuuri’s throat. Yuuri blinked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Are you feeling a little needy, Victor?” he said a little teasingly. 

“I’m always needy,” Victor said, pulling his weight onto Yuuri and wriggling his hips suggestively. “For -- hm -- _validation_?” 

A little breathless, Yuuri said, “All those gold medals aren’t enough?” 

“ _Yuu-ri_ , are you implying that I would use my gold medals for sexual gratification?” 

“Victor, aren’t you implying that you would use me for sexual gratification?” 

“That’s different,” Victor said with a huff. “I love Yuuri. I didn’t think I could love anyone (except Makkachin!) before you. You surprise me every day with how much I can feel for you.” 

Yuuri looked up, his face soft with surprise. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Then, feeling daring, Victor said, “Sometimes I don’t think I’m quite human, you know.” 

“People sometimes exaggerate…” 

“No, I mean it, Yuuri. I’ve always -- felt different than other people. You watched that show about me, from a few years ago. About my parents?” 

“It was badly researched,” Yuuri said with a scowl. “They cut corners.” 

Sometimes Victor forgot that Yuuri was his fan as well as his beloved and his prime competitor. He smiled. “You’re so good to me, Yuuri.” 

“I’m not,” Yuuri said earnestly. “I’m just --” 

“You’d like me if even if I wasn’t like this, wouldn’t you?” Victor was anxious not to let Yuuri answer that question. “I mean, of course I’m very beautiful!” 

“Victor,” Yuuri said, his voice sounding a little funny, as if he was struggling not to laugh. “I would love you even if you weren’t beautiful.” 

“Yuuri, have you heard of changelings?” 

A little puzzled, Yuuri nodded. 

“I used to think I was one of those,” Victor said slowly. “But now, I think, even if I was, it wouldn’t be too bad. Not if you were with me, Yuuri.” 

“Victor,” Yuuri said slowly, “I don’t know if I understand you…” 

But Victor had already fallen asleep.

Victor dreamed vividly, as he always did. He was racing through a wintery landscape, the cold air chilling his lungs. With a shout, he turned back and called for Yuuri, who was struggling behind him. 

“Come on, Yuuri!” he shouted gaily. “Don’t let me leave you behind!” 

But though he could see Yuuri’s face, it didn’t seem like Yuuri would come faster. A little impatiently, Victor breathed out. “ _Come on_ , Yuuri.”

Suddenly, the scene shifted and Victor was alone in a large, echoing hall. He looked around, hoping against hope that Yuuri was with him, but he was alone. Or rather -- not alone, but with himself. 

There, seating on a throne was a gloomy old version of himself, with hair like cobwebs, looking down at silver mirror he held in his hands. He looked up when Victor was trying to sneak away and said, sharply, “When will you return, child?” 

“Never,” Victor said sharply and with a jolt, he woke. 

Though he cast around for Yuuri, he realized that he was alone. The sky was dark outside his window and Victor’s mind still felt asleep. His stomach rumbled and he sighed, pulling out of bed. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes -- he felt every second of his age. He padded over to the kitchen to get something to eat and found Yuuri and Makkachin curled up on the couch. Makkachin was snoozing on Yuuri’s lap, but Yuuri was absorbed on his phone. 

“Yuuri, are you hungry? I want to order something, what do you feel like…?” 

“Victor,” Yuuri began, holding out the phone for him to read. Victor took and read the article that Yuuri had been looking at. _**VICTOR NIKIFOROV PATERNITY BOMBSHELL! PHENOM SKATER’S FATHER FINALLY SPEAKS OF HIS SON’S RETURN TO THE ICE!!!!**_

“What are they bothering Yakov for,” Victor muttered irritably. Then he scrolled down. The article wasn’t talking about Yakov at all, but a total stranger, someone Victor had never met. 

He was already dialing his lawyer’s number while scrolling down to see the stranger’s face. It was his own -- a little older, a little more weary, and a worryingly high forehead. 

“I need to call my lawyer,” Victor murmured. 

*

“There’s no reason to believe he’s telling the truth about anything he says,” Yakov said, looking like he hadn’t slept in at least two days. It was almost comforting, how grouchy he looked -- Yakov never changed, no matter what. 

“It would be easier to counter his story if we told our own,” Victor said, yawning. “But you never really bothered to tell me about where I came from, so I guess this was inevitable.” 

“Don’t slouch,” Yakov said sharply. “And get your feet off the table, do you think you’re Yuri?” 

Victor stared at him. Yakov stared back. 

But it did no good -- Yakov was the master at this sort of thing, while Victor was, as much as he hated to admit it, still a student. 

*

He had no intention to speak to the charlatan who claimed to be his father. When he received questions about it from the press, Victor handled as he did all uncomfortable questions -- he disarmed the reporter with humor and then quickly went in for the kill, which was distraction. He could keep people spinning around indefinitely, Victor knew that. 

Which was why he was so taken aback when he and Yuuri came home from practice one day and found the stranger sitting on the couch in their living room. Makkachin growled -- the first time Victor had ever heard her do that. But that was all right, because if he had hackles himself, they would probably rise too. 

Yuuri said nothing and Victor looked at him, alarmed. It was as if he was frozen, and slowly Victor realized that even Makkachin, after her initial reaction was still. “What have you done with them!” 

“They’ll be fine,” said the man who claimed to be his father. He looked different than he had in the article, less human and more -- well, _more_. His cheekbones looked like clamshells and his teeth were dark, like old blood. His eyes were strange, as if they could see through Victor, past the flesh and bone and into something deeper. 

“You are the son of the Elf King. I have sent you to this world to conquer it. You have been great, but you will be greater. Come with me, Victor.” 

“I won’t,” Victor said. “My life is here, with Yuuri. You have no power over me.” He was guessing, but it seemed like he had guessed right. The Elf King stepped back, looking annoyed. 

“I see that I have left you too long,” he said icily. “I will return, soon enough.” 

And then, with a blink of an eye, he was gone. 

Everything came back to life after that. Yuuri stirred beside him and yawned. “Victor, what do you want for dinner?” 

Makkachin whined, rubbing her head against the palm of Victor’s hand. The doorbell rang and Victor felt a surge of anxiety rush through him. But the Elf King hadn’t used the door before, he reasoned, as he opened it. 

Before him stood Yakov and Lilia, with what looked like enough food to feed a crowd and wine to go along with it. They trooped into the kitchen with their burdens, closing the door behind them. 

“Victor,” Lilia said crisply, “Yakov has something to tell you.” 

“I don’t see why I should,” Yakov muttered, shoving a basket of food into Yuuri’s arms. 

“Ah, welcome?” Yuuri said, “I don’t really know what’s going on here.” 

“It’s nothing, Yuuri,” Victor said, “Yakov is here to tell me that I’m a changeling, that’s all.” 

“If you knew, then why do I have to tell you?” Yakov said, aggrieved. 

“I want you to tell me,” Victor said, “begin at the beginning…” 

And together with Yuuri, Victor listened -- to things he knew and things he didn’t. He had always known he was different than the rest, different than the other skaters. But now, listening to how Yakov and Lilia had found him and raised him, Victor realized that he’d had something that he had thought he was missing. 

He glanced over at Yuuri, who caught his eye and gave him a small smile. Victor smiled back. He wasn’t alone. Even after all of this, he wasn’t alone. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, S! All mistakes are mine.


End file.
